A Second Ransom
by Marimba Buddy
Summary: A fanfiction about the story "Ransom." Ten years after the famous kidnapping and rescue of Sam Barnes, things get very bad when a second ransom is placed over an authority in San Francisco? How can the Pacific Delta Force stop it?
1. PROLOGUE-Part 1

**APRIL 24, 1999**

**SAN FRANCISCO, CA**

* * *

The sun shined high over the horizon, illuminating the rooms of everyone's houses. In one of these bedrooms, twenty-five year-old former Marine Jason Murdoch woke up to the sun's golden beams on his face. He smiled and turned to look at his wife's face, illuminated by these golden beams. He laid there and watched her, she began to stir and opened her brown eyes to look up at him, and smiled back.

"Morning," she said sleepily.

"Morning, dear," he said back. "How'd you sleep?"

"Fine," she said, yawning. "What are we doing today?"

"Well, the office gave me the day off, so I was thinking we could take a walk. You know, through the park where we fell in love, some museums, the Golden Gate Bridge…"

"Sounds good," she said. "How come they gave you the day off, love?"

"Earned it," Jason said. "You have no idea how happy I was about it."

"Oh, Jason. Every job you've gotten since the Marines hasn't satisfied that need for adventure. If you want, you could always look to join the police."

"No," he told her flatly. "I'm done with that kind of work. That day in Iraq was all I needed. I mean, I would've died if I it weren't for Captain Rogers. He was there, to heal me after the explosion."

"That's what captains do," she said. "That's what anyone in the military would do. Are you sure about the job, then?"

"I'm positive."

"OK. Just thinking of you, love."

"I know."

They kissed.

"I call shower first," she told him with a grin.

* * *

That morning, after breakfast, they were getting ready to leave when a knock sounded at the door. Jason's wife answered it, and called to him.

"Jason? Honey? There's someone at the door looking for you."

Jason walked into the living room where a tall man stood. He was African-American, and had a very sophisticated look on his face like he meant business. Although, he did smile when Jason entered the room.

"Can I help you?"

"Jason Murdoch," the man said simply. "Former marine?"

"Yes," he said. "Who are you?"

"My name's David Nelson," he said. "I'm the head of the PDF."

"The PDF?" Jason asked.

"Pacific Delta Force," Nelson explained. "We are a far less-known organization to handle certain criminal situations along the west coast when local police forces and SWAT teams are being overwhelmed."

"I've never heard of that," said Jason.

"I would imagine not," said Nelson. "We tend to provide safety over-watches most often, though sometimes we have to step in if things go badly. We also do some behind-the-scenes work as well. We are not an underground organization, we just prefer to keep our operations under the criminal radar as much as possible."

"So why are you here?"

"We need a recruit," Nelson said simply. "You're a former Marine. Probably the best person for the job, unless, of course, you're happy with your current work?"

Jason's wife glanced over at him curiously.

"Fine," he said. "Thank you."

Nelson sighed. "Well, I certainly respect that. In case you change your mind, though, here's my card." He pulled out contact information and handed it to Jason. "If you don't change your mind, burn it. Don't leak that number. Let us do the recruiting. _If_ you don't change your mind."

The man walked out the front door, shaking Jason's hand and nodding at his wife before leaving.

"You should at least consider," she told Jason.

"I don't need to."

"At least keep the card for a few days? For me?"

How could he say no to that?

"Very well. You ready?"

"Yes."

* * *

They visited the park and the museum like they said they would. Jason was never too fond of walking and looking. He was more of a hands-on kind of guy. His wife, on the other hand, always had to tell him to keep his distance from the fragile things, in case he broke them. Jason always chuckled at that. Afterwards, they visited her father's grave very briefly. Her father had developed cancer a few years ago and died there. It was very emotional for her, but Jason was there to comfort her whenever he could. She told him that when she died, she wanted to be right there with her father. Jason promised that if she died first, that's where she'd go. He would see to it.

They finally made it to the Golden Gate Bridge and began walking down the sidewalk. The sun was shining gloriously and people were everywhere. It was a perfect day. What could go wrong?

They were laughing about something, perhaps one of Jason's Marine friends doing something stupid during off hours, or one of her aunts cracking a joke. When he thought back on it, it didn't matter. Suddenly, there was a crash ahead of them. A car swerved and crashed into the side of an oncoming car. Traffic stopped and horns started blaring. Jason's wife immediately ran up to see what was going on, despite his wishes.

"Wait! Laura!"

But she was already there. The first on the scene. An older woman was crying. She looked up at Laura.

"I'm here to help, ma'am," Laura told her.

"No. Stay back!" the woman said, frightened.

"I'm trying to help!"

"He'll kill you too!"

"Who will?"

"I don't know. The man who climbed into my car! He stole my money and left!"

"Well, he's gone! Here, hold still!"

"No, wait! Under my seat! I think he put a—"

Jason finally got close enough to the car when everything went bright orange and yellow, knocking him back to the ground. Everyone screamed. Jason looked up and, in what felt like slow motion, got up, running to the wreck as quick as he could. He got there in time to see his wife lying face down, with the car completely demolished and on fire. He turned her over and saw her face partially black and red. Her eyes were closed.

"Laura?"

Firefighters were arriving on the scene.

"L-Laura?"

She didn't move a muscle.

"Laura? No, come on. This isn't funny!"

But she remained as still as ever.

After a few minutes of denial, an ambulance arrived on the scene and attempted CPR, but nothing did anything. One of them looked at Jason and said, "She's gone, son."

* * *

The next few days were a blur. How long did he stay on that bridge? Did he walk home? Was he driven home? What happened? All he knew was that the most important woman in the world to him was gone because of some car bomb. It wasn't fair! Why her? Why did it even happen in the first place? Why do people have to do this? He wanted an answer. He wanted to know who did it. That's all he could think about during the funeral service, other than making sure she was buried next to her father. It wasn't until he got home and threw his jacket on the floor when it happened. The card from David Nelson fell out. He picked it up and was about to rip it apart in anger when his wife's voice echoed in his head.

"_For me. For me._"

He stopped. For her. For her. He wanted to do something for her. But what? He couldn't avenge her. The only person who could give a description of the car bomber was the old woman who also died.

"_For me._"

He closed his eyes and let his mind be flodded with what he knew his wife would want him to do. He glanced at the phone number and picked up the phone.

"_For me._"

* * *

**A/N:** Hey. So, it's been a while since I've written any fanfiction, although any time I read or watch a good and/or interesting story or movie, I'm sometimes thinking about a side story, sequel, or even prequel that I find would fit nicely into the story. I also don't like unfinished plot points in a story, either. For those of you who are unaware of the story _Ransom_ by Danielle Steel, I recommend reading that story first before this one, seeing as this is a fanfiction of that story. That's all I'll say for now. I want to see how this story is received so far. I hope you're enjoying it!


	2. PROLOGUE-Part 2

**JUNE, 2004**

**TAHOE, CA**

* * *

Peter Morgan stared at the ceiling. So many thoughts ran through his mind. He was in Tahoe, lying next to a sleeping six year-old Sam Barnes, whom he had kidnapped. Well, actually he was forced to hire three other criminals to do it or risk his own daughters' lives. He hated Philip Addison. All Peter wanted when he got out of Pelican Bay a few months ago was start in the world again, a wiser man. Hopefully, just maybe, he could see his girls again. His ex-wife Janet probably thought he could care less about them even after he lost his visitation rights, but he didn't. Now the rich Philip Addison wanted money from the widowed Fernanda Barnes, whose husband had "accidentally" died in Mexico after secretly losing his wealth. Only Peter knew this from Sam. As far as Addison and the three criminals elsewhere in the house were concerned, she was rich and playing games with them. The truth was she simply didn't have the money. It was the only choice he had by driving away to get food earlier that previous day and make the call telling them where they were. They'd probably be outside the house by now. Hopefully they were. Peter didn't want to think about what those men would do to Sam if they weren't.

"Mom."

Peter smiled at Sam, who was still sleeping but had said the word in his sleep. He walked over to the window and thought about the trouble he was in when it caught his eye. He saw brief movement. He quickly but quietly woke Sam up and managed to get him out the window, crawling to safety. He watched as Sam was taken into the arms of the SWAT officer. Peter smiled. At least Sam was safe now...almost. They still had to get down the driveway.

He walked into the living room and sat down, eager to see Sam returned home. He didn't even hear the footsteps behind him. Only the voice.

"You're up early." It was Carlton Waters, the first man whom Peter hired for the job. They were both released from Pelican Bay at the same time. "How's the kid?"

"He's fine," Peter said simply.

Carl told him about how bored he was growing waiting for the money, being like sitting ducks for the cops. He didn't care about Sam, nor did the others. They wanted the money.

"Maybe she doesn't have it," said Peter. "If not, we've wasted a lot of time."

"Your guy wouldn't be going to all this trouble if she didn't," Waters said, then moments later, ran outside, screamed, and ran back in.

"What's wrong?" said Peter, but he already knew. Sam and the SWAT agents were spotted. The other two men, Jim Free and Malcolm Stark, had emerged with their machine guns and ran outside with Carl. They began firing at the men with Sam. Hell was breaking loose.

* * *

**ONE HOUR EARLIER**

The helicopter touched down over the back hill and two men got out dressed in ghillie suits made from thick grass. The target area was just ahead. Both men had silenced sniper rifles.

"Alpha team 1, what's your status?" came their commander's voice through their earpieces.

"Approaching position," said one of the men.

"Almost there. Just past the hill," said the other.

"I still don't see why this is a discreet operation," said the first man. "The cops look like they've got the situation handled, plus I there's probably numerous SWAT agents here as well."

"I'm aware of that," said their commander. "I told you. We can't risk drawing too much attention from the house. I already gave the FBI and SFPD the heads-up you'd be there, but I never mentioned exactly where. If they give you too much attention, that's one more reason for the kidnappers to kill young Mr. Barnes. Let the cops and SWAT do their thing. You're nothing more than overwatch. If something goes wrong, you'll be there to provide cover fire. Am I clear?"

"Affirmative," said the second man.

"Good. You know what to do, Scaper."

"Roger."

The two reached the peak of the hill that overlooked the house and driveway from a distance. They laid down and readied their snipers.

The second man took a quick survey of what he saw and began to report it.

"Base, this is Captain Scaper. I've got a visual on the police and SWAT barricade near the road. No activity yet, though."

"Roger that," came their commander's voice. "Keep still. No sudden movements. We can't blow our cover, especially to the kidnappers."

"Roger," said Cpt. Scaper.

His partner was looking inside the house. All seemed quiet.

"You okay?" Scaper asked.

"Yeah," he said. "Just...nervous."

"Why? There's only four men in that house. They're outnumbered. That little boy will be returned home to his mother within the hour. Everything will be fine."

"I know," he said. "Still, what if something goes wrong?"

"Nothing will."

After what seemed like forever, they both saw movement in their scopes. SWAT men coming from the side of the house with a young boy beneath them.

"Base, I've got a visual on the SWAT teams with young Barnes. He's okay."

"Good to know, Captain. Keep watching them."

Scaper's partner looked toward the house again when three men emerged and began firing, with a fourth peering out from the background.

"Uh oh," said Scaper. "This looks bad."

They continued watching as they fell back inside, one-by-one. The two agents watched in suspense as the three men cornered the fourth. One of them disappeared into a back room and came out seconds later. The fourth man was then threatened by the looks of it. After a while, two of the men came back out and started firing at the men with Sam. They continued firing with one of them slightly further in front of the other.

"This is getting too crazy," said Scaper. "We're gonna have to intervene."

They watched as the bullets got closer to Sam, beginning to take out some of the SWAT members.

"Right. GO!" Scaper shouted.

His partner aimed and shot the man in front in the shoulder blade, throwing him slightly off balance. An FBI agent took this as his chance and gunned him down. Scaper's bullet narrowly missed the other man, who ran back inside the house, and shouted something at the fourth man.

* * *

"They got Carl!" Stark shouted in Peter's face. "You bastard, you killed him!"

And then it came. Stark shot Peter in the stomach. He felt the bullet rip something, and he fell to the floor, his vision fading to black with his breathing pained.

* * *

"Base, things are getting complicated. We've got two of the men in the house dead and a few policemen and SWAT members down as well," Scaper reported, panicked.

"Where's the boy?"

"I don't know. He's-"

They both saw it. Sam was literally thrown into presumably his mother's arms, though she looked like a cop herself. Everyone looked like they were beginning to cry.

"Base, this is Scaper. The Barnes child is secure. Send the helicopter."

"Roger. They're on their way."

"Good work, my friend," said Scaper, getting up to lean on his elbow. "NIce work."

"We barely shot. Two bullets, one hit."

"Doesn't matter," said Scaper. "The boy's safe. We're done."

His partner continued looking through his scope as one of the police officers below looked straight up in their direction, panicked and drew his weapon.

"GET DOWN!" he shouted, pulling Scaper down into a laying position again.

* * *

The bullet caught the attention of the police officers and FBI agents still at the scene, though at that point the Barnes mother and son were already being led back to the hotel nearby.

"Agent Starkley, what was that?"

"I don't know, sir," said Starkley. "I thought I saw someone up on that hill."

"It was probably just a rabbit," said his commanding officer. "You're seeing things. THe only two men left are in that house."

"Right. Sorry, Rick."

* * *

The two agents at the top of the hill continued laying in their position for a few seconds. Finally, it felt calm again.

"Come on, Scaper. Our ride's here. I can hear it."

The sound of an approaching helicopter near their infil point was ringing out.

"Scaper, come on! Get up!"

Scaper rolled over, revealing a fresh wound in his chest. It looked bad.

"Scaper, no! Come on! Get up!"

Scaper groaned but didn't otherwise move.

"The chopper's here. We need to go!" his partner frantically shouted, pulled him up and supporting him slowly down the hill. Scaper almost fell down a few times, but was pulled back up.

"Get on board!" the pilot shouted. Scaper was helped into the chopper by a few men inside.

"What happened?" one of them asked.

"A policeman saw us. He shot. I thought he missed, but Scaper got hit."

"Hold on, I'll call for a medic."

"Too late," Scaper croaked. "I'm...too weak."

"Don't say that," his partner said immediately. "You'll pull through."

"I feel blood oozing from my heart. It's over."

"No! It can't be! Don't do this to me, Jon!"

By then, the co-pilot had informed Base of what happened. Their commander came through on the helicopter's radio.

"This is Nelson! What happened? Hey, do you two hear me! Hello? Scaper? Are you alright? Scaper?! Captain Murdoch, do you read me? Someone answer me!"

But these words fell on deaf ears. Scaper looked up with weak eyes and said with his dying breath…

"I'm sorry, Jason."

* * *

"Look at this. Two useless bodies to dispose of. Why'd they even have to die? All four of 'em could've just been arrested."

"They had to get the kid back, man. What happens happens."

"I hate the fact that the bodies start to smell after a while, though. It's nasty."

"Ain't that the truth. Let's just get them to the crematorium before they get ripe."

"Alright. Let me check on them first."

"Why? They haven't moved. They're dead, man."

"You're funny. I want to make sure they're at least situated properly."

Footsteps. The sound of footsteps approached.

"Right. You're Waters. Didn't think about getting shot down when face-to-face with the FBI, now did ya?"

More footsteps, getting closer.

"You're Morgan. Hmm...I guess we all have you to thank for giving us the location. Still, why'd ya have to do it in the first place, huh?"

"Hey, Frank. Rick says that Leroy shot at something back while we were at the house."

"Really? What was it?" More footsteps, walking away.

"He said he thought he saw something on top of a hill."

"Leroy? Are you kidding me? He's always seeing things! You can't expect him to be right about that!"

"That's what Rick said. Probably just a rabbit."

"Yeah. So...we ready to go? I really want to get these bodies in bags and back to San Fran so we can prepare them for the crematorium. Or at least Waters. I heard they wanted to bury Morgan with some kind of honor."

"Yeah. That's Officer Lee's idea. Yeah, we should get going. We don't want too many onlookers. Think you could help me move some of this stuff in the chopper, first?"

"Yeah, sure."

Cool air blew down and Peter weakly drew a breath of air into his body. He opened his eyes. The sky was still pink, which meant it was still not too long from when dawn broke. He looked over at two men, probably FBI agents, pulling things in and out of a helicopter. He tried to move his legs but couldn't, and his stomach abdomen area felt terrible form the wound. He could move his arms, though. He tried to work up the strength to push himself up to a sitting position, but this too felt nearly impossible. He felt determined. His vision was still slightly foggy but he had to make sure these men knew he was still alive. WIth a good thrust, he pushed himself up. What he had not yet become aware of, though, was that they were on a hill along the edge of Lake Tahoe, as it seemed it was discreet enough to load two bodies in bags without drawing too much attention from onlookers. With that thrust, he lost his balance and went straight over the side of the hill. His already faulty vision, body, and senses were knocked around some more as he fell down the hill violently, before feeling the burst of cool morning water surround him. He had to surface, but his body was quitting on him. Blood was still coming from his wound, his heart was pounding, and his lungs were gasping for whatever oxygen they could get. With all his strength, he managed to briefly reach his forearm up out of the water before felling himself sink.

* * *

A second helicopter began its trip back to San Francisco after providing an aerial watch of the entire mile radius from the house during the operation.

"Alpha team 2, do you read me?" Nelson's voice came through the radio.

"Loud and clear," said Lt. James Brooks, overseer of their part of the operation.

"Good. Unfortunately, Alpha Team 1 didn't quite get in and out without trouble."

"Why not?"

There a sigh and a pause, followed by, "Scaper's dead."

"What?" said Brooks. "How?"

"They were spotted by an FBI agent and mistaken as enemies."

"And Saddelsworth got shot?"

"Yes."

There was another long silence. Over by the helicopter's side view door, Sgt. Kevin Smith was watching below still, but listening. It sounded like Operation Shadowfox was mostly a failure. Smith continued watching the land below when he something odd. Something falling off a cliff into Lake Tahoe.

"Uh, Lieutenant?" he said. "Can you tell the pilot to take us down 50 meters?"

"Why's that?"

"I saw movement down by the lake."

"It's probably nothing important," said Brooks.

"Can't we at least check it out?" Smith requested. "I mean, what else have we to do at this point?"

Brooks considered and spoke up to the pilot, who brought the copter down until it was about 50 fifty feet above the water.

"What do you see?" said Brooks.

"Nothin' now," said Smith. "Just-"

Then he saw it. An arm it looked like appearing from the water.

"There! It's a person! Bring it down lower!"

The helicopter lowered until was at the waterline and Smith jumped in. A thrashing body was sinking, with a blood trail spilling into the water. Smith swam down, grabbed the person, and rose back up. Brooks helped him into the helicopter.

"Base, this is Lieutenant Brooks. We've just rescued someone from drowning in Lake Tahoe."

"What?"

"Someone was in Lake Tahoe. Sergeant Smith saw them from the air."

"Hmm. Well, we've got no time to take them to the FBI. Bring them in when you get back."

"Roger that."

* * *

Peter awoke on a soft metal table. He didn't know what was happening now. Everything in his recent memory was a blur. From the moment Malcolm Stark fired his weapon at him, everything was fuzzy. He knew he was somewhere close to Lake Tahoe and then fell in and thought he was drowning. Where was he now?

A door opened and two people walked in. Peter turned to look at them.

"Peter Morgan?"

"Y-yes?" How'd they know his name?

"I'm David Nelson, chief of the Pacific Delta Force, or PDF for short. This man, Sergeant Smith, saw you drowning in Lake Tahoe."

So it was real.

"Yeah. How do you know my name?"

"Fingerprints. We know what happened back at the house, with Sam Barnes and all that. We've also ran a history check on you."

"So, you're gonna turn me in?" he asked.

"Not at all," said Nelson. "In fact, we want you with us."

Peter was aghast.

"What do you mean?"

"Look," said Nelson, "you've been through a lot between your divorce, prison, and this whole kidnapping plot. Right now, you're basically a dead man to the world. There's nowhere you could go where you'll be safe. However, we couldn't help but notice how well you handled the pressure those criminals gave you, risking your life to give young Mr. Barnes' location to the police. We want to give you a second chance. What do you say?"

Peter thought about it for what felt like hours. He noticed he could move certain parts of his body again, and the bullet was removed with the wound patched up. He didn't know what to think. On one hand, a position with a delta force seemed like a lot seeing as what he just went through. On the other hand, as Nelson said, he had nowhere else to go. Besides, he felt obligated to actually do something for the world for once.

"What do you say, Peter?" Nelson asked again, and Peter gave him his answer.

* * *

**A/N:** OK. Here's the second and fibal part of the prologue. A lot going on in this one, isn't there? Now the real story begins.


End file.
